


Barcelona

by indyluckycharlie



Series: Spy Versus Spy [2]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Dirty Talk, Dom Bucky Barnes, Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Light Dom/sub, Shameless Smut, Smut, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-07
Updated: 2021-02-07
Packaged: 2021-03-12 20:27:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,235
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29266458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/indyluckycharlie/pseuds/indyluckycharlie
Summary: “I thought you were mad at me.”He swipes his fingers once more across slick and heat, then brings his hand up so you can see it. He rubs his thumb against wet fingers before dropping his hand between your thighs again.“This doesn’t feel like mad to me.”---This time it's Bucky's turn to be the boss.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Reader, James "Bucky" Barnes/Reader
Series: Spy Versus Spy [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2149251
Kudos: 74





	Barcelona

**Author's Note:**

> This was the original Spy Versus Spy (renamed) that kicked off the whole series. I hope you enjoy! Please, leave me comments, they give me life!

* * *

“Is this payback?” 

“For having left me tied to a chair so that you could get to the mark before me last time?” He asks as he leans forward over your shoulder. You look back and catch the annoyed tick of his brow “ _ Yeah _ . Now keep your hands on the wall and kick your shoes off.” 

Your lip quirks on a silent laugh. “Worried I’m going to run away? You’ve already got me pinned, where do you think I’m going to go?”

“ _ Shoes _ .” 

You grumble as you toe them off one at a time and kick them to the side.

“You know, I don’t even know why you feel like you _ need  _ payback. You  _ are _ the one who brought the target in tonight.” He hums a placating sound. Though he does not touch you, every nerve in your back senses him as he draws even nearer. Goosebumps break out and your heartbeat thrums wildly in your throat. Determined not to show it, you push on. “In fact,  _ I _ should be angry with  _ you _ .”

“Oh, and why’s that?” His warm breath brushes your ear. He rests his hands lightly on your hips. His thumbs slip under the hem of your shirt and rest on bare skin. 

“Because,” a lump sticks in your throat, as he leans against you and his hands wander slowly up to your rib cage. “I would have brought him in if you hadn’t gotten in the way.” 

“Hmmm,” with painful slowness, he runs his hands up and over your breasts, squeezing gently as he goes. You’re sure that he can feel the increasingly rapid rise and fall of your breath now. As your nipples peak and harden under his hands, he pinches them between his fingers, before sliding his hands back down over your stomach. 

They come to rest at the waist of your pants and you desperately try to get your thoughts back on track. 

"I had him in my sights,  _ literally _ , until you showed up and messed up my plans."

He hums again thoughtfully as he glides his thumbs along the top of your pants, out from the center to your sides and back again. He lets his fingers stretch low and graze where they may as he goes. 

"And? Isn't that how the game goes? No assists and no holding back, doing whatever it takes to bring the mark in, and may the best agent win?" He delicately sinks his teeth into the soft flesh of your earlobe, before whispering, "And to the victor-" nimble fingers pop the button of your jeans. He catches the pull of your zipper between his fingers and works it slowly down- "go the spoils?" 

Your palms feel slick where they press flat against the wall in front of you. They're not the only part of you suddenly feeling wet as your breath quickens.

Even your best efforts can't stop the breathy catch of your words. "I never said I wouldn't concede to the rules of engagement. But that doesn't mean I can't be pissed about it."

"Hmmm," is his only reply. You don't even have time to stifle your gasp as he jerks both your pants and underwear down to your ankles in one motion. 

"Lift your foot," he commands, tapping your ankle as he crouches behind you. You comply without question, stepping out of your clothes with first one foot then the other. He tosses them aside.

Still half kneeling on the floor, he cups his hands around your ankles and runs them up your calves. He bends to kiss that ticklish spot behind your knee and you have to bite your lip. As he shifts to stand, his hands continue upward, his thumbs rubbing light lines up the back of your thighs. Your nerve endings come to life and the sensation spreads, even to places where he’s not touching you. As he continues to rise, he leans in, bites the firm swell of your ass, making you jerk forward with a moan that you can no longer contain. 

When he’s fully upright, he stands close but just far enough that air can whisper between you. Every inch of your body is aware of him now. Aware and waiting. He curves one hand around from your hip,  grazing it slowly along the front of your thighs, before dipping his fingers between them and your hips twitch at his touch.

His practiced fingers stroke in lines and slow circles, drawing out more wetness as they work. You press your lips closed tight so that only pitiful hums can escape you. 

“I thought you were mad at me.” He swipes his fingers once more across slick and heat, then brings his hand up so you can see it. He rubs his thumb against wet fingers before dropping his hand between your thighs again. “ _ This _ doesn’t feel like mad to me.”

You manage to just barely huff out an angry sound- a poor attempt at denial when you're practically panting- but before you can answer, he slides two fingers inside you. Reflexively, you rise up on your toes, thankful for the wall to brace yourself against, as your eyes roll back and a surprised sound escapes you. Your toes stretch further and you clench around his fingers as he pushes them deeper and holds them tight inside you. You barely notice that you're not breathing until he rapidly starts pumping in and out and air bursts hard from your burning lungs. 

You drop heavy back onto your heels as you try to push down into his hand. He splays his free hand across your lower abdomen, pushing you back into him, pinning you against him so that as you squirm you only create more friction between your bare skin and the suddenly too thick fabric of his combat pants. You clench instinctively at the feel of him hardening against you. 

He works you with his fingers steady and quick, using his palm to press against your sensitive nerves from the outside. Your fingers curl against the wall as you rock your hips into his hand, your whines turn high pitched as the pressure builds. 

His lips burn against your throat. 

"Aren't those pretty sounds?" He chuckles at your answering groan. “You almost there? Gonna come for me?” 

You squeeze your eyes tight, try to talk, but no sound comes out. You nod. You’re back up on your toes, tilting forward, your forehead falls against the wall. The heat surges through you and-

“Not yet.” He whispers in your ear. And suddenly his hand is gone. Cool air rushes across fevered skin.

Your eyes pop open in a snap. 

"Are you fucking kidding me?!" You manage to choke out. 

Shock-wide eyes and your temper brewing under disbelief, you turn to look over your shoulder at him and your mouth drops open. His eyes are closed, his head tilts back as his smiling lips curve around his fingers as he sucks the taste of you off of them. 

The burst of anger in your belly gives way to something like desperation and a whimper slips out. He opens his eyes, widens them in mock surprise before he slowly pulls wet fingers from his mouth. 

"What is it? What's the matter?"

You narrow your eyes and snort in warning.

He flashes a wicked smile and suddenly you're being spun by the shoulder. As your back makes hard contact with the wall, he hooks his hands around the back of your thighs and lifts. It only took a second and you're pinned to the wall, held in place by his hips. 

The abrupt reminder of his strength sends a sharp thrill of desire running through you that tastes at the edges like fear. And power. His lust darkened eyes call to the primitive part of you that whispers memories of hunting. And being hunted. Of hungry eyes watching in the dark. You think of the deep dark and howling things. When he kisses you, at once both fierce and tender, you think of how even the wild beast would lay down and be untamed for you. 

You're sure you're soaking the front of his pants as he rocks shallowly against you, growing hardness firm against your swollen flesh. 

"Is this better?" Your whine is its own answer. 

He pulls back just enough to let you undo his pants and free him from their confines. You note with smug pleasure that his underwear is damp from his own desire. 

As you pull him free, he leans in close, making you lift your eyes from your prize. 

"Don't worry sweetheart, I wouldn’t leave you wanting. I just want to look in your face while I'm fucking you."

You grab the back of his neck, nip at his bottom lip before brushing your tongue against his mouth. 

"Don't call me sweetheart." You rasp hot against his lips.

He huffs a half laugh and thrusts deep, stealing your breath as he does.

"Sorry.  _ Doll _ ."

He punctuates this with a growl and sharp tilt of his hips. Your traitorous insides turn to liquid and the sudden spark in his eye tells you he knows it. Your ego thinks you should care, but you don't. You're happy enough to be undone by him. 

And as you watch his eyes turn impossibly darker, his thrusts, at first measured and deep, soon turn wild and unpredictable. You watch as his careful control slips away. Smugness and pleasure swell in your chest, knowing that his desire is just as ungovernable as your own. Not that he hasn't proven as much time and time again and you adore him all the more for it. 

You're grateful for the solidity of his shoulders and the wall firm against your back, the only things that ground you as you feel yourself breaking away from the world around you. But soon enough there is only the heat and the pressure and that delicious stretch each time he drives into you and you could n’t care less if you float off into space, as long as he comes with you. 

Too soon and not soon enough the pressure building inside of you, made all the stronger for having been denied, reaches its crest. In the final moment, holding out as long as you can stretch it, you pull him tight against you, dig your heels into the back of his muscled thighs, and press a searing kiss on his mouth. You break away with a choked sound as electricity shoots through your every vein. His own wild groan fills your ears as he thrusts twice more and then quivers to stillness, his body falling heavy against you. 

After several long minutes, he lifts his head from where it fell against your collar bone and kisses the side of your throat. Gingerly, he adjusts his stance so that he can shift your weight into his hands and lets you down easy to the floor. Hands braced against his shoulders you unkink your legs, your hips grateful for the release they hadn’t realized they needed. Your feet hit the ground, but you let your weight sink against the wall. Your legs are still too weak to hold you properly. 

He smiles his cocky half smile as he takes in your state and you let him. You figure he deserves it after a job well done. He pulls a clean cloth from the pocket of his surprisingly well stocked combat pants and swipes it between your legs, earning him a grateful smile in return. He stoops to grab your discarded clothes and passes them to you. 

As you dress, you remark, “Too bad you’re flying out tonight. There’s a place not far from here with some really amazing bocadillos.”

His brow wrinkles in annoyance. “I know. Tony insisted on it. He wants to follow a lead from that Athens job.” 

“Oh, leaving the hard wor k of interrogating tonight’s catch to my team, eh?”

He shrugs as he steps forward, caging you in with his own hands on the wall to either side of your head. “I’m sure it’s nothing you can’t handle. In fact, if I were a betting man, I’d put money down that you’ll break him by the time we touch down in Greece.”

“Sooner,” you say full of smug confidence.

He brings his hand to your face, cups your cheek as he runs his thumb over your swollen lips.

“So there’s a chance we’ll be in Paris next week, and I heard you guys might be there too.”

You narrow your eyes sternly at him. “You know I can’t say.” You tilt your head back. “But  _ if _ I did happen to be there, I know of this great little hotel that overlooks the Seine. They serve a mean croque monsieur for breakfast.”

“Sounds amazing.” 

He dips his head, presses his warm mouth to yours. You lift your chin as your lips part, inviting him further in. You let your hands rest on his chest as the fading flame flares up again between you. Reluctantly, he pulls back, an apology in his eyes.

“Shit." Voice hoarse with renewed desire. "I’ve got to go.”

“I know.” You reach a hand up and run your fingers down the side of his face, curving along the line of his jaw.

“Next time?” His eyes are hopeful.

You nod before kissing him once more, lightly. “Next time.”


End file.
